A Lady’s Touch of Sin – Extended Epilogue

Ewan neared his fiftieth year. It was an extraordinary thing to grow older, something he mentioned to Laura frequently, although he could have done without the aches and pains. As he lay in bed beside his still-slumbering wife, he reflected on these aches: the strange dull feel in his left shoulder, surely a result of a horseback riding accident he’d been in the year after his thirtieth birthday. Further, there was the strange stabbing sensation in his right knee. He tapped all ten fingers across his stomach, counting them out. Was it possible that they were the very same fingers he’d had all his life? Surely not. They looked entirely different. 

Laura rolled onto her side and peered up from just under the sheets. Her blonde hair spilled out across the pillow, reflecting the morning sun. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been the day Ewan had married her, an event he had never regretted in all their years. 

“You’re doing it again,” Laura whispered, still with the slightest hint of an Austrian accent. 

“What?” 

“You’re staring at me,” she said. 

“I simply cannot help it.” Ewan knelt and tapped his lips against her nose. His heart swelled. “I’m in love with you.”

“I know. You tell me every day,” Laura said, her words sarcastic. She eased up and blinked at him, still rising from sleep. “I must tell you something.”

“What is it?” Ewan asked. 

“Marta and Baldwin will come this afternoon for tea,” she said. “We haven’t seen them at all this week.”

“You and Marta would attach yourselves at the hip if you could,” Ewan said with a wide grin. 

“She’s all I have of the old country,” Laura said, chuckling at the concept. “All I have left of the German language, especially now that Marcus and Walter have moved away.”

Both Walter and Marcus had decided to head off to Austria several years before, in their early twenties. The thought of it had thrilled Laura at the time. She’d spoken with them incessantly about all the grand events that would surely happen in their lives. Ewan suspected it made her sad that they’d found Austrian wives and remained, as though they’d switched lives. However, when they visited Austria, an event that happened fewer and further between now that they were a bit older and a bit more fatigued, they always met up with the boys and their Austrian wives and had a marvellous time. At least, Ewan assumed everyone had a good time. His children, Laura, and everyone else spoke remarkable German. He, on the other hand, had only bits and pieces. 

This was something his children had teased him about incredibly over the years, all good-naturedly. It had become the secret language between Laura and their children, something she’d very much turned to when she’d wanted to discuss something with Ewan in the room. This had necessarily irritated Ewan over the years—yet now that his children were largely grown, it pleased him that they all had the German language on their tongue. 

“Is Frank around today?” Ewan asked, as he watched Laura rise and draw her nightgown from her shoulders. Her gorgeous and still-slender body made a mockery of his pocked one. 

“I suppose so. He said he’d return from London on Thursday, didn’t he?” Laura said. “And today is the day.”

“You know, I have the strangest suspicion about him,” Ewan said. 

Laura arched her brow. “What is that?”

“I have a feeling he’s courting one of the young ladies at Marta and Baldwin’s estate.”

“Young ladies? You don’t mean some of the servants they hired from Austria?” Laura asked. 

“In fact, I believe he fancies the governess,” Ewan said. 

“What makes you believe this?” Laura asked.

“The subtle looks they’ve cast to one another throughout our social gatherings haven’t been so entirely subtle,” Ewan said with a dry laugh. “And he hasn’t courted anyone properly in several years. The boy is twenty-five years old. He is surely interested in someone … it’s only a matter of time before he digs his heels in and finds a suitable wife.”

“Why hasn’t he told us about his love for the governess? Oh, goodness. What is her name again?” Laura asked. 

“It’s Greta,” Ewan said. 

“Entirely Austrian. Wow. I suppose history repeats itself,” Laura said. 

“But he must feel that it’s not allowed!” Ewan said. “Otherwise, I perceive our family to be quite open about such things. We always promoted the sort of environment we wanted for ourselves growing up. One of honesty.”

Laura beamed. “I suppose we didn’t do such a stellar job, then.” 

“Shall I explain it to him? Oh, perhaps it will come out naturally …” Ewan said. “I don’t wish to embarrass him, just in case I’m incredibly off the mark.”

**

Prior to Baldwin and Marta’s arrival, Ewan and Laura gathered their younger children in the garden. There was Valerie, a twenty-two-year-old spitfire, blonde and bright-eyed, like her mother. Ewan detested the fact that she especially fancied courting and hadn’t yet settled on a proper man yet. This, of course, her mother adored. “She won’t allow anyone to boss her around,” she said. “I love it.” 

After Valerie was Margaret, named after Ewan’s mother in the wake of her death. As Margaret was now seventeen years old, it mesmerised Ewan that his mother had been gone that long. Sometimes, he could still hear her bright and stuttering voice in his head. 

After Margaret, there was Peter, aged fifteen. Peter was soft-spoken and intellectual, reminiscent of Ewan himself in the old days, before he’d truly come into himself. He had trouble looking people in the eye, and sometimes, this bothered Laura, as she required a man to be solid and stable, like her Austrian father. Ewan had had to describe himself as a younger man to her for her to understand. “But you love me anyway. I turned out okay,” he’d told her. At this, she’d had to agree and simply put her faith in the power of time. 

As Laura and Ewan and Peter and Margaret and Valerie assembled in the garden, they heard the wheels of a carriage as it crept up the driveway. Three of their maids ambled into the garden with a platter of shortbread and several pots of tea. As the maids poured their tea, Baldwin’s voice rang out through the late-spring air. Always, when Ewan heard Baldwin’s voice, he was reminded of those long-lost days, when they’d been but boys—the dearest of friends—unable to comprehend the weight of whatever would come next. 

Baldwin appeared in the garden gate. He was still broad of shoulder, dark of eyes, although his black hair had begun to salt itself. He stuck out a hand and Ewan grabbed it gladly, shaking it and booming, “Welcome, old friend. It’s terribly good to see you.”

Marta, who’d aged just as gracefully as Laura, appeared next. She hugged Ewan close, then turned to kiss each of the children on the cheek, before arriving at Laura and squeezing her nearly to death. The women tore into their German language, bouncing it around and off of one another’s tongues as though it were a ball and the language a game. Baldwin had learned just about as much German as Ewan had, which left both of them to shrug their shoulders. 

“I’ll grab you a drink,” Ewan said. 

“I suppose I’ll need it,” Baldwin affirmed. 

As they walked away, Baldwin and Marta’s children appeared through the garden gate. They’d waited a bit of time before having children, a fact that had puzzled Ewan at the time. However, due to this, Marta and Baldwin had been allowed to travel frequently, spending several summers in Austria and even going to the West Indies for a full year, “just to try it out.” By that time, Marta had convinced Baldwin to rid himself of his father’s dying business and incorporate himself in another. They’d been happy and prosperous and not-so-terribly-busy ever since.

In any case, they’d also had four children: Andrew, age 19, Alice, age 17, Ulrich, age 15, and little Zelda, age 9. Baldwin had more-or-less asserted the fact that Zelda was a mistake, but “a happy one.” 

“Where’s your eldest, then?” Baldwin asked, grabbing the glass of Scotch from Ewan’s outstretched hand and sipping it. 

“He’s been off to London but should arrive back soon,” Ewan said, thinking again of his probable affair with Baldwin’s daughter’s governess. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen him around your estate at all, have you?” 

“He has quite a wonderful relationship with Ulrich and Andrew,” Baldwin said thoughtfully. “Although now that you mention it, he has been there a great deal. Do you suppose there are other intentions at play?”

“So you say you have seen him with the governess?” Ewan demanded.

Baldwin chuckled. “We were all young once, weren’t we? I can see it plain as day.”

“But why hasn’t he said anything?” Ewan asked, his voice catching. “I hoped that he’d been brought into a better world. A world where such things didn’t feel so forbidden.”

“Perhaps he requires it to feel this way. It elevates the romance. You know it yourself … your marriage to Laura wouldn’t be what it is today if it had been altogether so simple for you to come together,” Baldwin returned. 

“I beg to disagree,” Ewan said. “She’s my soulmate.”

“Yes, but the story of it all, Ewan. You’re a dramatic man. This is what you crave,” Baldwin said. 

“I resent that a bit,” Ewan scoffed. 

Suddenly, there was a creak at the garden gate. Ewan whipped around to spot the blonde-blue-eyed beauty, Greta, whose smile immediately flowered across her face. She carried what seemed to be a fresh loaf of bread, and she beamed at each of them before dropping in front of Zelda, her student, and whispering something to her in German. 

“Zelda has a hard time with her older brothers and sister,” Baldwin said then. “She’s terribly inside of herself. Only wants to play with Greta. And now … honestly … with Frank, when he’s around. She considers them both her closest friends. Frank has even taken to the German language in ways that neither of us ever did.”

“Tell me, Baldwin. Has Frank told you that he wishes to marry Greta? Has he been honest with you in ways he hasn’t been with me?” Ewan asked, terrified of the answer. 

“Not yet,” Baldwin returned.

On cue, there was the clopping of a horse from outside the garden, then a magnificent whiny. Ewan and Baldwin exchanged glances. 

“That must be our boy,” Baldwin said. 

Frank appeared in the garden moments later. He looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink in many days. Huge bags hung beneath his eyes, and his dark blond tresses were terribly untidy and windswept. Even his clothes looked oddly torn, as though he’d been to the ends of the earth and back. 

Immediately, and hilariously, Greta shot up from her stance beside little Zelda and gave Frank enormous eyes. The tension in the garden made it difficult to breathe. Due to Frank’s sudden appearance, nobody spoke for a long time. 

Finally, Laura said, “Frank! You look wretched. Why don’t you go inside to clean up a bit?”

“Really. We aren’t up to much. And your father can pour you a glass of Scotch for your return,” Marta said. 

But Frank shook with emotion, with feeling. He took a staggered step towards Greta, his hand outstretched. Greta shook her head ever-so-slightly, as though she wanted to will him not to do this, not to reveal them. After all, wasn’t it possible that she might lose both him and her job? 

Oh, how foolish they were. How little they knew about anything, Ewan thought. 

“Father, I haven’t slept in days,” Frank said suddenly. His voice rang out a bit too loudly. It was gritty and violent. 

“I can see that quite clearly, Son,” Ewan returned. 

Frank’s chin quivered with rage. “I know you won’t like it, Father. I know you’ll insist that I don’t. But I’m in love with someone. A woman with more intelligence in her little pinky than all the people I could court combined.”

Ewan arched his brow. He chose to keep his face stoic, stern—an act that, he knew, would please Laura. 

“Don’t just stand there like this, Father,” Frank continued. “I need you to ask me questions. I need you to take an interest in what I have to say.”

“Are you suggesting that I haven’t taken an interest in your life?” Ewan demanded. 

Frank pondered this for a moment. “No. I suppose not. But I know you to be the son of your mother Margaret. I know you to uphold the rules of propriety and order. I know you to …”

“Just because I asked you to hold the doors open for women and always bow when you enter a room, doesn’t mean I don’t believe you shouldn’t marry who you love,” Ewan said. 

This caught Frank off-guard once more. He staggered forward a bit more, then wrapped his hand around his neck and blinked at them. He seemed incredibly unsure of how to proceed. 

Greta pressed her arms over her chest, her chin quivering. Ewan stepped towards Laura and placed his arm around her shoulders. Laura blinked up at Ewan, memories of their past shimmering in her eyes. How was it they’d avoided telling their very own children about what had come before? Ewan supposed they’d just been entirely too focused on the present, on building a better future. 

“You think I should love who I love?” Frank said, his eyebrows low. 

“Whoever that may be,” Laura said, saying it in German. 

Greta’s eyes turned towards them. They swam with tears. Suddenly, she rushed towards Frank and cuddled close against him with her eyes still focused on Laura’s. Laura nodded, assurance that she understood. 

“How long have you known?” Frank asked. He held Greta closer to him as she quivered with fear. 

“Please, don’t fire me, Lord Terrence,” she said to Baldwin. “We can pretend that none of this happened. I wish only to return to my duties as your governess.”

Baldwin guffawed. This, it seemed, terrified the poor Austrian girl all the more. She huddled closer to her beloved, quaking. Baldwin turned towards Ewan and gave a lacklustre shrug. 

“It seems we’ve done a wretched job of informing our children of our past,” he said.

“You’ve taken the words directly from my mouth,” Ewan said. 

“Is someone going to explain?” Frank demanded. His eyes flashed from Marta to Baldwin, back to his parents. “Mother? Please. I don’t want to live in this darkness.” 

Laura gripped Frank’s hand. She gave a slight shrug and then said, “Darling Frank. You’re correct in your assessment of your grandmother, Margaret. She was quite difficult.”

“That is putting it lightly,” Marta said with a laugh. “Although, of course, we loved her dearly.”

“She made our house a home,” Ewan affirmed. “But that meant she wanted the very best for all of us, regardless of whether we wanted those things for ourselves.”

Frank grew more cavalier with his hand, which he latched onto Greta’s shoulder. Greta’s bottom lip quivered. 

“You know that Marta didn’t grow up in England. That she arrived here for a season and then remained here with Baldwin,” Ewan said. 

“I suppose,” Frank said. 

“She brought with her a single handmaid,” Ewan said. 

“And that handmaid was me,” Laura said, her smile widening. 

“Mother!” Frank cried. 

“Yes. I was nothing more than the girl you have here with you now,” Laura continued. “Just a girl with dreams. I assumed that I would return to Austria by mid-summer. Instead, I’ve been here the previous twenty-five years.”

“But your grandmother wasn’t exactly keen on the idea at first,” Ewan said. “We hid it from her for a long time.”

“A scandal ensued!” Baldwin said. 

“That’s not to say you didn’t have a scandal of your own,” Ewan said, arching his brow. 

“I wasn’t the one who’d got my girl preg …”

Here, Ewan smacked Baldwin across the shoulder, halting his speech. Marta gave him an eagle-eyed look. Perhaps this was too much information to speak in front of the children. 

Still, Frank seemed to comprehend. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “You fought for your love, despite everything.”

Ewan gripped Laura harder against him. “Yes. I had to. Your mother was the only human I’d ever truly loved.”

“But you’re saying, then, that I don’t have to fight?” Frank said. 

Marta laughed. “That’s not precisely what we mean. In fact, marriage is a bit of a war every single day. You have to fight against yourself and one another. You have to fight for the love you first felt … even as it grows and morphs and becomes something deeper and stranger. If you truly wish to marry this woman … and I think you do … then you have to pledge your heart and soul to her, in sickness and in health, on your good days and your bad. You have to think of this very day in the future when you were willing to lay down your life for your love, in front of your father and mother and Baldwin and me.”

Frank considered these words. When he furrowed his brow, he looked precisely as he had as a much younger man, even a boy, a boy amid some sort of puzzle, eager to ask his father for help. 

“You have our forever blessing, my boy,” Ewan said. His heart lurched with a strange mix of sadness and joy. 

How strange it was to watch his son fall in such desperate love. Suddenly, Frank dropped to one knee and gripped Greta’s hands. He gazed at her with such earnestness, Ewan saw his own face reflected there. 

“Greta. Won’t you make me the happiest man in the world?” Frank asked, all in German. “Won’t you move to England for good?” 

Greta’s eyes swam. Laura would tell Ewan later that she could practically see the girl’s fear of not seeing her beautiful mountains again reflected there. 

Still, she agreed. She whispered that she’d never loved anyone more, that she would find unique happiness in England. That she couldn’t be anywhere else. 

Truth be told, none of them could be. They’d found a perfect arena for family, for love. And their generations would continue much like this, with a combination of two beautiful countries, and the best people from both. 

THE END

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